it starts to trickle in,
first one, then another
until the deluge pours down
all these doubts, these thoughts
rushing against me
against the dam built to forestall
such a flood as this
pushing heavier against the walls
made of thick muddy memories
and stone folly
it crushes with the weight
and the first crumble begins
giving way slowly
glacially losing solidity
as the flow washes away the foundation
and I
holding on
grip embattled by pressure
hands tired, weak
become lost
in the thrashing self-torment
thrown downstream
desperately grasping at everything
hoping, wishing,
for a rescue
to anchor me
until the overflow subsides